


Nearer My God to Thee

by BlackAngel001



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, But it's there, Gen, Jason is trying to be a brother, Mental Anguish, but they don't talk about it, he really loves his big bro, it's more hinted at
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 14:04:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12134082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackAngel001/pseuds/BlackAngel001
Summary: Sometimes quirks weren’t exactly quirks, but more like blaring, in your face alarms that something needed to be done before something went nuclear. You tend to realize when things maybe...aren’t right.





	Nearer My God to Thee

**Author's Note:**

> No idea where this came from. At all. None. I'm sorry.

_Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee!_  
_E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me;_  
_Still all my song shall be nearer my God to Thee,_  
_Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee_

Sometimes, DIck hums. When Bruce’s death hit a little too hard, when he realized his Damian sized shadow wasn’t there anymore. He would swing out from thirty stories into open air, let himself fall, and...hum. It wasn’t a poppy song, wasn’t anything really mainstream. It was the song they played on the Titanic, when it was going down. You’d barely hear him over the rush of air on the comms, and then you’d hear the twang of his line going out. And you’d let out a whoosh of air because he caught himself.

Don’t get me wrong, in this family we all take stupid risks and do stupid things. We’re all adrenaline junkies, and not only are we looking for that next fix but ways to push it harder and farther. Make the thrill that much more thrilling. For Dick, sometimes that means free falling.

It’s just the humming that makes it gut wrenching.

He’s the perky, upbeat Golden Boy; he shouldn’t be humming a funeral hymn. That’s more suited to me, or Tim’s emo ass. Anyone who knows Dick, really knows him, knows about the humming. They know to keep a closer eye on him, to be his net when he jumps without looking. Or at least try to. It’s just a Grayson fact, right up there with loves blue and elephants, hates cantaloupe. The problem with the humming is there’s no real rhyme or reason to when it shows up. Sure there’s times it’s obvious (I did mention Bruce and Damian being dead, right?) but most of the time you can’t imagine why he’s got that damn song going. You’d have seen him earlier in the day and he was good, then that night swinging around together he’s got the tune going so much it’s stuck in your head.

Welcome to my night.

Despite being affirmed go until you drop types, that night we broke early. With everyone else in Gotham, I didn’t feel that confident in my skills to get us both out of whatever shit we landed in, if any. Somehow, Bludhaven was quiet. The drug and arms deal that was supposed to happen never did, and we couldn’t find Dick’s informant. No point going to Gotham when it’s covered, so we decided to split and try again tomorrow night.

I was home. I was home, and changed, and ready to get some sleep because I fucking earned that, damn it all.

Except.

I couldn’t sleep. That song was still in my head. That image of Nightwing free falling and the last, very last, second save was still in my head. And that song was still going.

“God damn it,” I mutter, throwing back the covers and shoving my legs into my jeans. I was redressed and out the window in near record time and hightailing it across roofs to Dick’s apartment. My feet were beating out the rhythm to the hymn and it made me grit my teeth.

When I reached Dick’s window, it was dark. Made sense, it was the crack ass of dawn and any sensible person would be sleeping.

Except.

I bypassed all his safety measures and opened the window. I crouched and waited for a few heartbeats. No sound came from the apartment. Somehow, that was scarier than the humming.

I eased my way inside, and closed the window again. My eyes adjusted quickly enough to the shape of his living room furniture, the wall that led to the hallway. I kept my footsteps light. Between my shoulders itched like crazy, like someone had a gun pointed right between them. His bedroom door was cracked and I gently touched it open. It didn’t make a sound. On one end of the room was a window and the head of the bed. On the other was a wall and a closet. The Nightwing costume was crumpled in the middle of the floor. Dick was sitting on the floor with his back against the far wall, knees pulled up and arms loosely wrapped around them. His head was tilted back and I didn’t know if his eyes were open or not. Hell, I couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

“Dicky?”

His finger twitched.

“If you’re gonna sit in the dark, you could do it in bed. More comfortable.” I didn’t move from the doorway. I leaned my shoulder against the frame. He didn’t say anything. I sighed. “Come on Dick.”

“Sorry,” he finally muttered. “I’m not really good company right now.”

“When are you ever?” The joke didn’t work. “Hey, uh...I was thinkin’, bout that deal that was supposed to go down? I had some ideas about it, but I need your help with gettin _ _ _ _’____ the info. So.” Yeah, real smooth Todd.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “Don’t think I can be much help, y’know?”

I sighed again and walked over next to him. I slid down the wall and sat next to him. Our shoulders almost brushed.  
“What’re you doing Dick,” I mused aloud.

“I have no idea. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing anymore Jason. It’s so much crap on top of more crap, and I can’t get out from it. I just...I keep pushing things to the side and by the time I can get to it again there’s no point.”

“Then get mad, grab the shit with both hands and soldier on.”

The sigh he let loose, I could feel down to the bottom of my soul. It was wrenching and aching.

“I’m too tired.”

The silence that followed was enveloping. Those three words told me more than anything else could have. He wasn’t just tired physically, he was tired emotionally and mentally. He was tired in all the ways that counted and the ones that didn’t. He had given everything he had to everyone else and had nothing left for himself.

He was done.

“Okay,” I said, leaning so our shoulders did touch. “Okay,” I repeated. I slung an arm around his shoulders and put my hand against his head, tugging it down so he could rest it on my shoulder. I put my mouth against his hair, like he’d done for me countless times before, and kept a steady pressure against his head. It was awkward and uncomfortable as hell, but we sat like that for hours.

But there wasn’t any humming.

_There let the way appear steps unto heav’n;_   
_All that Thou sendest me in mercy giv’n;_   
_Angels do beckon me, nearer my God to Thee,_   
_Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee_

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of sleeping for my 0930 class later this morning, I just wrote this. Why, God, why? I also know there's mistakes in pov, but it's 4 in the morning, what do you want?


End file.
